How it should have ended: Billy
by quarteralien
Summary: Alternate ending to episode 3.06, where Fred is a little more persistent.


Fred stepped back as Wesley closed the door. She lingered a moment as she heard the distinct sound of voiceless sobbing. Her heart broke for Wesley and the torment he felt necessary to put himself through, but the odds weren't good he would let her in a second time.

She hesitated, then stealthily opened the door again. The skills she gained in Pylea served her well. Wesley had slid down against the wall, his head hanging, oblivious to her return. She knelt in front of him, taking in the sight of the vulnerability he would never voluntarily show anyone. Feeling a little voyeuristic, she reached out and touched his shoulder.

Wesley gasped and scooted away. "Fred! Where did you come from?"

Fred blushed. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to give you a heart attack. I just couldn't leave you like this."

Wesley impatiently scrubbed at his tears. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. You don't need to be here."

"Maybe I do." she countered. "And maybe it isn't just for you. I want to feel comfortable around you and this is what it will take."

Wesley looked at her as though trying to discern more meaning from her words. "Why are you so eager to forgive me?"

Fred's smile was sad. "Would you rather I didn't? Would you rather I held a grudge, avoided you, maybe even warned other people to stay away from you?"

"No," he admitted. "But that would be no more than I deserve."

Fred was done with self-pity on the floor. She abruptly stood up and grabbed Wesley's hand. Too startled to protest, he allowed her to lead him to the couch. Regaining some composure, he asked, "Um, would you like a drink?"

Fred smiled encouragingly. "Yes, I would."

Wesley was looking much more relaxed as they made small talk and sipped their drinks. Finally, he took a deep breathe and asked "Really, Fred, why did you come back?"

Fred watched him and took a deliberately slow pull from her drink and set it down. She looked him in the eye and replied "I have a challenge for you. Have a conversation with me without questioning my motives."

"I wasn't-" he protested "I was- oh. I'm sorry." How was is possible she made him feel at ease and on edge simultaneously?

Fred shook her head. "I'm being too hard on you, and it's not a bad question, really. I guess I came back because... because you pulled me out from under a table. I know what isolation can do to a person, and I wanted to return the favor."

Fred noticed he glanced down at her mouth and wet lips, and her heart began to race. The pain of their last kiss was still fresh enough to dampen any desire she had. Maybe the alcohol was having an effect on him, but it wasn't enough to make her forget just yet. Wesley made the slightest move toward her, and on instinct, Fred pulled him into a hug. He was taken aback, but not unpleasantly. He hadn't really planned to kiss her, and wasn't even entirely aware she thought so. He wrapped his arms around her, and breathed "Thank you for coming back."

"You're welcome." she returned. Their embrace lasted perhaps longer than either expected, but just as she was about to pull back, Fred felt Wesley grow heavier. Soon his arms dropped away and his head rested fully on her shoulder. Could it be he had actually fallen asleep? She equal parts gratified that he felt comfortable enough to do that, annoyed that she was now propping up his weight, and worried he was suffering from either narcolepsy or severe sleep deprivation.

As gently as she could, Fred backed out from under him, lowering him to the couch cushion. Then she slowly brought his feet up too. He was too tall to stretch out, but if he fell asleep that quickly, he desperately needed the rest, and she wouldn't wake him. She took their drinks to the kitchen and then found her way to the bedroom to retrieve a pillow and blanket. Wesley stirred slightly as she slipped the pillow beneath his head, and Fred held her breath as he settled again. She spread the blanket over him, and then stood back to admire her handiwork. He looked more peaceful than she had ever seen him, bruises and scratches notwithstanding. Satisfied, she gave him a peck on the cheek before hunting around for his keys. She then wrote a quick note:

"I took a key. I'll return it to you when you come in tomorrow. Sweet dreams! 3 Fred."

She folded it and propped it on the coffee table so it would be the first thing Wesley saw when he awoke. Then she left as quietly as she came, locking the door behind her.

Morning light brightened the apartment. Wesley became acutely aware that he was cramped onto a couch instead of sprawled on his bed. Not quite ready to wake up, he shifted the pillow and pulled the blanket tighter. Pillow and blanket? When did that happen? Gradually, memories from the previous night returned. Fred. Had she tucked him in? Wesley allowed himself a moment to visualize that scene but couldn't decide how he felt about it.

He sat up and spotted the note. As he read, his heart beat erratically, an involuntary smile crossed his face, and any aches and pains from a night on the couch disappeared. "...when you come in tomorrow." it read. Well, tomorrow was now today, and it would be a beautiful day.


End file.
